Standing Next To Me
by LovelySlytheriness
Summary: Auror Harry Potter secretly feels guilty over Draco Malfoy's fate after the war. When the opportunity to help him presents itself, he cannot turn it down. Betrayals, shifting loyalties and something entirely unexpected esue. Draco/Harry
1. Chapter 1

**Standing Next To Me**

Chapter One: Perfect World

_Human, all too human_

_Wonder what you do _

_And where it is you stay _

_These questions like a whirl wind_

_They carry me away_

In a perfect world, Harry Potter wouldn't have to see Draco Malfoy's face ever again after the final battle. In a perfect world, Harry Potter wouldn't have had to meet Draco Malfoy's dark gaze across the hall of the Malfoys' trial, he wouldn't have had to notice the way Draco Malfoy's eyes had lost the malicious spark Harry had learned to hate over the years, leaving the grey eyes indifferent and terrible.

In a perfect world Harry wouldn't care about Draco Malfoy's eyes.

But the world wasn't perfect, even though Voldemort was gone. In a perfect world Ginny would be someone who understood Harry; she would be someone Harry could fall madly in love with.

In a perfect world, Ginny would love Harry, and not the Boy Who Lived. In a perfect world she wouldn't have loved him before they'd even spoken; she wouldn't love the _idea_ of him more than the person behind the legend. But Ginny didn't really know who Harry was and Harry didn't care anymore because Ginny offered intimacy and warmth and he needed it, he _needed_ it, and he wasn't strong enough to turn it down when it was offered to him.

So, every night he climbed into bed with her and hugged her warm body close at night, trying to tell himself that this was right, this was perfect, and this was meant to be.

In a perfect world, Harry wouldn't have cornered Draco Malfoy after the trial, demanding to know why his eyes were dead, he wouldn't have hissed: "You're lucky you're alive and a free man, Malfoy. That is more than you deserve, so why do you look like you've been sentenced to endure the Kiss?"

Harry waited for Malfoy's violence and the spite, but it never came and cheated adrenaline pulsed through Harry's system. Malfoy just looked torn and tired, and Harry wanted to scream. It was wrong, so wrong and so unnatural.

"Where is your damn pride, Malfoy?" snarled Harry, his grip tightening around Malfoy's collar.

At these words Malfoy lifted his gaze and met Harry's. Harry felt nauseous. Malfoy's eyes weren't gleaming with hatred anymore. They were indifferent.

"Pride?" Malfoy said, as though he'd never heard the word before. "Did you fall over and smack your pretty little head, Potter? I have no pride. My name is worth nothing. I'm sure you take very much delight in the fact that I have no money, no home, and no parents."

Harry looked away. He knew that he could have saved both Lucius and Narcissa from the Kiss, but he hadn't. He hadn't. _They deserved it,_ his inner voice shouted awfully loud in his mind, _they deserved it, they'd been death eaters. _

But Narcissa had saved him, another voice reminded him softly. Narcissa had saved him for the same reason that Lily had saved Harry years and years earlier: Because she had loved her son more than she had ever loved anything.

"I don't even care," Harry said. It sounded cruel, and he knew he didn't mean it. He cared. He didn't want to.

In a perfect world, Harry wouldn't have to justify to himself how he had ripped a family apart.

Malfoy's eyes, lacking the hatred and the challenge that Harry was so very used to, reminded him however: The world wasn't perfect.

It was winter the next time Harry Potter saw Draco Malfoy. Diagon Alley was crammed with people doing their Christmas shopping, running about through the drifts of snow that gleamed in golden from the decorations of the shops' windows. Harry usually held his head down, not wanting to stop and talk to every person who wanted a chat with him. He ran into someone's shoulder and lifted his head to offer a subdued excuse, but fell silent as he saw who it was he had run into.

Malfoy looked at him coldly, brushing off imaginary dust from his heavy robe. He looked pale, and slimmer than he'd done the last time they had spoken at the Ministry, and Harry wondered if Malfoy couldn't afford to eat these days.

"I'm sorry," Harry said. "I didn't see you there."

The corners of Malfoy's mouth twitched as if he was trying not to smile. "Yes, well, you always were a clumsy sod, Potter."

Harry rolled his eyes, but he found that he was strangely happy about the insult. This Malfoy he could handle.

"And you always were a rude twerp," Harry retorted.

Malfoy looked at him with sincere surprise now. "Really, Potter? Is that really what you think of me?"

Harry thought that in a perfect world he wouldn't think about Draco Malfoy at all. "Yes," he replied. "How does that surprise you?"

Malfoy's voice was soft, and his eyes gleamed with something indefinable. "It doesn't. The only thing that surprises me is that you think of me at all these days."

Harry tensed, and said flatly: "I don't, really." He wondered if it was true.

"I see," said Malfoy lightly, looking everywhere but in Harry's eyes. "Well Potter, as much as I enjoyed this little chat of ours, I have to go."

Ignoring the stark sarcasm in Malfoy's voice, Harry reached out without thinking and gripped Malfoy's upper arm. "Wait," he said, and for some reason he added: "Would you like to get a cup of coffee somewhere? I know a small place just around the corner from here."

Malfoy looked in disbelief from Harry's hand, still gripping the Slytherin's arm, to his face. His eyebrow was arched. "I don't think so, Potter. We don't have much to say to each other, now do we?"

Harry knew that in a perfect world, they really wouldn't have had much to say to each other, but he knew that a world without a snarky, rude Draco Malfoy in it seemed impossibly small.

He hadn't realised he'd actually missed their bickering until now. He felt alive again, he felt... young.

"I just… Is there anything I can do for you?" Harry asked, mentally slapping himself. What a stupid, stupid thing to say, especially to Malfoy.

Apparently Malfoy agreed, because he shrugged Harry's hand off of him. It was quite a feat; Harry thought dully, how Malfoy managed to look down his nose disdainfully at him when they were practically the same height.

"I'm not wealthy, but I get by. I'm not looking for charity, Potter. Especially not from you. I'm afraid you'll have to get cosy with that cup of coffee by yourself."

"I didn't mean to offer charity," Harry said hurriedly.

Malfoy still looked suspicious.

"You can pay, if you want to," Harry added. He didn't know why he was so desperate to talk to Malfoy. He was in a hurry, Ginny would be wondering where he was. It didn't make much sense, but Harry's life didn't make much sense anymore. He couldn't explain why Malfoy's crooked grin didn't annoy him anymore.

"Don't be absurd, Potter. If we're going to have coffee on your suggestion, of course you will pay. I was merely making a statement."

Malfoy turned around and started to walk towards the alley Harry had indicated earlier. He still moved like an aristocrat, Harry realised when he watched the other walk down the snowy street. When Malfoy had reached the corner he turned around, looking back at Harry.

"Well?" he said impatiently. "Are you coming or what, Potter? I believe there was coffee offered, and I'm freezing my bollocks off here."

Twenty minutes later, and the caffeine was playing through Harry's system and his completely numb fingers were finally starting to warm up again. He watched Malfoy across the table. He'd shrugged out of his dark robe but he'd kept the green scarf. Harry couldn't help smirking.

"Still in your Slytherin colours, eh Malfoy?"

Malfoy looked down to his scarf, blonde bangs falling into his eyes. "It was my father's," he said, his voice neither melodramatic nor sentimental but Harry could feel the sadness that had surrounded Malfoy since they ran into each other. He felt guilty.

Damn it, Harry shouldn't have to feel guilty over Lucius Malfoy. But he did. He did, because he knew that Malfoy was nothing but a mere shell of the person he once had been, what he _could_ have been, still, had he not lost everything after the war.

Malfoy sat before him now, more subdued and quiet than Harry had ever seen him. In school, Malfoy had been loud and obnoxious, cruel and unavoidable, but he had been _alive_. He'd possessed a spark and a soul and a seemingly infallible determination to never give up.

Harry picked up his napkin and started playing with it, trying to distract himself from looking Malfoy in the eye. "You said you get by. What do you do for a living?" he asked evenly.

"I'm a Potions brewer for St. Mungos," Malfoy told him soberly, after taking another sip from his coffee cup. ("No milk, for God's sake Potter, you complete imbecile, why would you ruin coffee like that?")

Harry wasn't surprised. Malfoy had been an excellent brewer at Hogwarts, even though Harry would have eaten a dozen of slugs back then rather than admitting it. "I work for the Department for Magical Law Enforcement," Harry told him. "I'm an Auror."

Malfoy's laugh was low. "I know that, Potter. The whole Wizarding world knows that. I do read, you know."

"Right," Harry said, blushing slightly. He never really got used to the fame, but he doubted he would earn anything beside a scornful look if he told Malfoy that, so he kept quiet.

"Do you like it?" Malfoy asked.

Harry shrugged. "I… I guess so. It's what I always wanted to be."

"But what about no- oh, stop fumbling with that stupid napkin Potter and look at me," Malfoy snapped and reached across the table, snatching the napkin out of Harry's hand. When Malfoy's fingers briefly closed over Harry's there was a sense of electricity tingling over Harry's skin, making Harry lift his gaze to Malfoy's and from the look of the other's face he'd felt it too.

His eyes met Malfoy's, whose gaze had darkened and was completely unreadable.

Then, Harry's mobile rang, and reality suddenly reminded itself in a universe that had only been about the two of them and the weird sensation between them seconds ago. Harry quickly reached into his pocket for his phone.

The display read: Ginny. Bollocks. He had completely forgotten about the time.

Full of dread, he answered: "Hello?"

"Where are you, Harry? I've been waiting with dinner for over an hour. You said you were on your way home – "

"I know, I'm sorry Ginny, I ran into an old friend," Harry muttered, trying to ignore Malfoy smirking at him from across the table, miming: 'An old friend?'

"And you couldn't have made a phone call? I've waited – "

"Alright, Ginny, I'm sorry. I really am. I'll leave right now."

He hung up. He knew she would be upset about that later, but right now he was almost grateful that he had a reason o leave the café and Malfoy and whatever weird moment they'd just shared.

He tossed a few galleons to the table and threw on his cloak. "Well, I have to go."

Malfoy nodded at his phone. "Yes, I suppose so. Wouldn't want to keep you from the Mrs."

"We're not married," Harry said quickly.

"Engaged?" Malfoy asked, politely.

"Just... Dating," Harry explained. He didn't want to talk about Ginny, not with Malfoy. "Well, this has been… Nice. See you around, Malfoy."

Harry left the café without waiting for Malfoy's reply.

He'd almost walked down the entire Diagon Alley before he realised that he had, willingly, spent half an hour in Malfoy's company.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Defeated Evil Then Succumbed To Madness.

Two months passed, and Harry didn't see any more of Malfoy. He thought about him, sometimes – he thought about the green scarf and the way his eyes had looked when he spoke of his father. He was unsure why he still thought about these things, but he didn't dwell on the fact that he did. He assumed it was only natural to be curious.

One night in February, the doorbell to Harry's house rang. Ginny was at Hermione and Ron's place, and so Harry had no choice but to get up from the couch and drag himself to the door. Assuming it was a salesman of some sort, he had a 'No thank you, I'm not interested' on the tip of his tongue, but he completely forgot about that when he opened the door.

Malfoy stood before him in the pouring rain, looking very much like he had done the last time Harry had seen him: Long black robes, green scarf and grey eyes gleaming beneath blonde bangs.

"Hi," said Malfoy.

"Um, hello," Harry replied.

"I'm sorry to just show up like this," Malfoy told him, "I would have sent you an owl, but I'm afraid this is urgent. Do you have a minute?"

Harry stepped aside. "I suppose," he said, granting Malfoy entrance. "Come in."

"Thank you," Malfoy answered graciously and stepped into the hallway which now appeared terribly small with both of them there. Harry led the way into the living room, gesturing towards the sofa.

"Have a seat. Would you like something to drink? Scotch, coffee? Ale?"

Malfoy sat down, still in his robes. "Some scotch, please. Is that Bulgarian, Potter?"

Harry followed Malfoy's gaze to the big moving painting of a huge, scaly magical animal in the corner of his living room. He'd helplessly watched Hagrid place it there 'As a proper birthday present for yer, Harry!' on his twentieth birthday.

"I think so," Harry said. "It was, er, a gift. From Hagrid."

"It's incredibly ugly," Malfoy told him.

Harry silently agreed, poured them both a glass, and then took a seat. "So... what can I do for you, Malfoy?"

Malfoy took a sip from his scotch, watching Harry over the brim of his glass. After he put his drink down a little too hard, he said: "I think someone is trying to sabotage my potions."

Harry blinked. "Why do you think that?"

"Because my flasks and ingredients have been meddled with. Labels have been switched, my tools have been hidden, and things have disappeared from my personal storage room."

Harry frowned. "And you're sure you haven't mixed it up yourself? These things happen easily."

Malfoy arched an eyebrow. "I'll pretend I didn't hear you question my organisation skills, Potter. I'm pedantic when it comes to my work. I know exactly where I keep every little plant. You have to be extremely careful and organised when it comes to brewing potions, a small mistake can be fatal." Smirking, he added: "Potions never was your speciality, Potter."

"And are you the only person with access to the lab?"

Malfoy nodded. "I'm the only one with keys, yes."

"Keys can be copied. Are there any wards set?"

Malfoy's face darkened. "That's what troubles me. There are plenty of wards that protect my lab. I'm talking about dark magic, Potter. If someone is able to not only penetrate these, but also re-set them when they're done, then that means they're exceptionally educated when it comes to the dark arts."

Malfoy took another sip of his scotch, before continuing: "You understand now, of course, why I couldn't simply contact the Auror's Department. With my, ah, _history_, I can't put a toe out of line without being shipped off to Azkaban."

Malfoy suddenly looked very tired and pinched, and Harry waited for him to continue.

"I know I took huge risks with the wards and using dark magic, but... I never imagined that anyone would ever bother with me or my potions making. It's not as though the Malfoy name counts for anything anymore," he finished resentfully.

"Why did you come to me?" Harry asked. "How do you know I won't floo the Auror's Department right now and turn you in?"

Malfoy's pointed face didn't betray any emotion. He simply said: "I don't. I don't know that, Potter. I admit; I'm not used to taking these kinds of risks. But I have no choice. I can't let this person sabotage my work. It was sheer dumb luck that I discovered the switched labels. People at St. Mungos depend on my potions; it's a matter of life and death. I can't..." Malfoy paused, avoiding Harry's eyes. "I just want to be able to do my job and live in peace."

Harry watched Malfoy under silence. He knew that face very well. The grey eyes that had gleamed with hatred when they'd met Harry's across the Great Hall when they were still children at Hogwarts. He knew the way shadows fell across his sharp cheekbones, and how his lips looked when his mouth curled into a defiant sneer.

He used to _hate_ that face.

He didn't know if he hated it anymore. Hatred demanded so much energy, energy Harry didn't have these days. Besides, Malfoy looked so worn, so tired, even though he tried to mask it behind the aristocratic air he was born with.

_In a perfect world, Harry wouldn't have to justify how he had ripped a family apart. _

Harry clenched his teeth so hard that his entire jaw ached. He felt guilty. He knew he needed to do this for Malfoy.

"I'll help you."

It wasn't until the words hung in the air between them that Harry realised how much he meant them.

Harry hadn't noticed the tension in Malfoy's shoulders before he visibly relaxed into the armchair. Malfoy's eyes were steady and grey.

"Thank you, Potter."

Harry heard the door slam shut, and he rose hastily from the couch. Malfoy did the same thing across the table.

Ginny appeared in the doorway, keys in hand and her long red hair cascading down her shoulders over the soaked robes. Harry could smell the wet wool. She narrowed her eyes when she spotted Malfoy.

"What are you doing in our house?" Ginny's voice was terribly cold.

Malfoy smile was artificial, and it didn't reach his eyes. "I believe Potter here invited me in," he replied coolly.

Ginny glared between the two of them. "Well, get out, Malfoy. You're not welcome here."

Harry had only seen her this menacing one time before: When Bellatrix Lestrange had taunted Molly about Fred's death. Her eyes had looked almost black that night, and Harry had shared her rage then. He didn't now.

"Ginny," he said firmly. "I invited him in. He's my guest, and you have no right to talk to him like that."

Ginny's eyes glittered dangerously. "He's your guest," she repeated slowly. "You call a bastard, cowardly death eater your _guest_?"

"Calm down." Harry's tone was sharp. "That's enough, Ginny. Malfoy –"

"You don't have to say anything, Potter." Malfoy said, looking at Ginny with a cold fury. "I'm not going to waste my breath by claiming my innocence to people who will never believe it, and neither should you."

With a nod of mock courtesy in Ginny's direction, he left.

Harry stared numbly after him.

AN: My latest work. I hope you liked this first chapter. I will publish the next chapter in a week. Reviews are, of course, love!

Lovely Slytheriness


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Flame and Shadow

_I never meant for you to crawl _

_See I never meant for you to go alone_

_Don't ever say good bye _

Harry decided to visit Malfoy at his lab a few days later. One of the Unspeakables, Parvati Patil, had reluctantly handed the address over to him at the Ministry. Her lips had been a thin line when she'd said: "I can't understand why you'd want to visit _Malfoy_." She'd said his name as though it was a filthy word. "Are you sure you don't want another Auror to go with you?"

Harry had replied with a short: "I'll be fine."

Malfoy's Potions lab was located in Hogsmead. Harry Apperated to The Three Broomsticks and walked down the still snowy streets of the small village. Everything looked a lot smaller than he remembered.

Harry couldn't find a doorbell on the door to the address Parvati had given him, so he knocked. He noted absentmindedly that the house was old and looked very simple, not at all the kind of workplace he imagined Malfoy had wanted.

Malfoy opened the door, looking poised. If he was surprised by Harry's spontaneous visit, he didn't show it.

"Hello, Potter," Malfoy said neutrally. "Do come in."

"Thanks," Harry replied, stepping inside the warmth of the house. "I'm sorry to drop by unannounced."

Malfoy led the way into the kitchen. He looked over his shoulder and said rather coldly: "Well, you're in luck, Potter. I'm not busy at the moment. I could have been though, and it would have been quite rude of you to interrupt."

Harry felt the old annoyance twitch in his chest, and without thinking, he snapped: "I'm here to help you, Malfoy. I would advise you to be polite."

Malfoy turned around. He was sneering. "I don't want your pity or your charity, Potter. I plan to pay you for doing me this favour."

Harry blinked. He supposed he should have thought about this earlier – that Malfoy wasn't the kind of person that would ask for anything without giving something in return, he was far too proud for that – but he hadn't.

"That's really not necessary," Harry said awkwardly.

Malfoy's sneer was still in place. "Of course it's not necessary. It's not like I believe the Golden Boy is short of gold, mind you. I don't want to owe you anything, that's all."

Harry felt his stomach clench uncomfortably.

_He could have saved both Lucius and Narcissa from the Kiss, but he hadn't. _

If anything, _he_ owed _Malfoy_.

"We'll settle that later," Harry mumbled. "Look, I can come back another time –"

Malfoy waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Don't be ridiculous, stay. Coffee?"

Harry nodded. "Please," he said.

They entered the bright kitchen together, and Harry was surprised to see Blaise Zabini at the kitchen table, reading the Prophet. Harry hadn't seen him since Hogwarts. He didn't know much about him. More than that he apparently was the reason the expression 'Tall Dark and Handsome' was founded, according to Lavender Brown and little Nathalie MacDonald.

"Blaise," Malfoy said, "You remember Harry Potter, don't you?"

Zabini looked up from the newspaper, his dark eyes filled with open dislike. "Vividly," he drawled. He looked at Malfoy. "I wasn't under the impression you were expecting company," he said, his voice tight.

Malfoy handed Harry his cup. "Leave it to a Gryffindor to turn up unexpectedly," he said lightly.

Harry refrained from reminding him about the fact that he'd done the very same thing two nights ago.

"What are you doing here then, Potter? Some heroic reason, no doubt? Oh wait, I forgot that sort of thing was reserved for Gryffindors and do-gooders. Are you just here to revel in a Slytherin's mediocrity?" Zabini's voice was taunting.

"Blaise," said Malfoy almost warningly.

Harry said nothing. He was too busy with the intense staring contest with Zabini to even form a reply. He'd never fully comprehended the unpleasantness of Blaise Zabini, for sure.

"He's here about the sabotages," Malfoy said, breaking the tense silence. He took Zabini's arm softly and said into his ear: "I need to speak with Potter alone. I'll see you later."

His voice sounded _strange_, and Harry realised that Malfoy was trying to sound gentle.

Zabini grabbed his cloak without a word, and took care to bang his shoulder into Harry's on his way out the door. The door slammed shut behind him, and Malfoy looked uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry about that," he said stiffly. "Blaise was never fond of you Gryffindors."

Harry almost laughed at that. "As opposed to you, you mean?"

Malfoy shoved him. "Shut up you pillock. Should I show you the lab?"

Harry nodded, relived that the uncomfortable atmosphere disappeared with Zabini.

Harry sat on top of a counter in Malfoy's lab, watching him work. He'd never cared for Potions, he was far too impatient and careless to be any good at it, but when he watched Malfoy's slim hands chop up ingredients he rather wished he knew more about it. It looked like a form of art.

"So Potter," Malfoy said suddenly, "Did you have to spend the night on the couch after my little visit?"

Harry coughed. The truth of the matter was that he and Ginny had barely spoken since Malfoy had left. She'd been practically buried in work, and Harry hadn't waited up for her to come home in the evenings.

"Not exactly," he muttered. "I'm sorry about that by the way. She had no right to say those things to you."

Malfoy visibly tensed, but he didn't stop working on his potion. His back was turned to Harry.

Then he said: "You're not Ginny Weasley."

"No, but... I don't want you to think she's always like that. She can be really kind - "

Malfoy rounded on him. "No, I'm sure little Ginny Weasley is the perfect Gryffindor with a heart of gold when it suits her and her little black and white world," he said viciously. "But when it comes to someone like me, death eater, an evil bastard and an outcast, there's not so much kindness left, is there?

I never asked for you lot to love me, Potter. I only wanted to be left alone. I know I made the wrong choices when I was young damn it, but I've paid. Merlin, I have paid. My parents are dead and I have very little left of the person I once were. Ginny Weasley hates a person that no longer even exists."

At some point of Malfoy's rant, Harry had jumped down from the counter, and Malfoy had him almost pinned to it. Harry swallowed. He didn't know what he could say, he didn't know if he wanted to defend Ginny, or even if he could.

Malfoy's eyelashes were very pale. Harry looked away from Malfoy's face.

"I don't know what to say," Harry said quietly.

Malfoy stepped away from him. "You don't have to say anything, Potter. I'm sorry I lashed out like that."

Harry tucked his hands into his pockets and looked everywhere but at Malfoy's face.

"I don't hate you, you know," he said after a few moments.

Malfoy spared him a spiteful look. "Well that just solves all my problems, doesn't it? I have the Chosen One's seal of approval, I can die happily -"

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy," Harry snarled. "And drop the martyr act, it's obvious what you're doing, you whiny, snotty _brat_– "

Malfoy strode forwards then, grasped Harry by the collar and slammed him against the counter. His face was twisted with fury.

"What did you call me?" he hissed into his face. "Did the great orphan Harry Potter just call me a martyr? Did the poor little Chosen One, who has always gotten everything served on a silver platter, call _me_ whiny?"

Harry shoved him, hard. "I have _never_ gotten _anything_ served to me on a _silver platter_, Malfoy. I'm not a spoiled little rich boy like you!"

Malfoy charged at him again, snarling, this time pressing him so firmly against a cupboard that Harry couldn't fight him off. His mouth curled into a sneer.

"Fame and tons of friends, admirers and the Headmaster's little poster child, oh Potter, you've really struggled in life, haven't you?"

"Voldemort murdered my parents," Harry growled, and Malfoy's eyes blazed.

"Yes, he _did_! As he murdered Ernie Macmillan's, Susan Bone's, and Malcolm Baddock's parents!"

Malfoy must have noticed how Harry froze up at that.

"You didn't know that, Potter? Of course not. Why would you? You never noticed anything outside your precious little Golden Circle, did you? Newsflash, Potter: Other people were going through the exact same thing as you did! It was war, there was _always_ war and everyone knew people who died and no one got all the special treatment that you did! You broke the rules, over and over again, you were the tragic hero who got away with everything, you got all that undeserved attention because of a stupid scar!"

"I never wanted any of that attention!" Harry shouted. "I never asked for any of it!"

"You certainly didn't turn it down when it was offered to you, did you? You like it when everyone listen to you Potter, don't you even try to deny it. You hate it when things don't go your way, when people don't pity the Chosen One- "

"Shut up, Malfoy! You have no idea how much I hated it when people treated me as though I was a fragile little kid who couldn't even take care of himself!"

Malfoy's hair looked wild now, and Harry would have laughed had he not been so furious.

"What the hell do you expect from people, Potter, when all you do is moan about how unfair life is as soon as you don't get your way? You don't think it was obvious in fifth year after the Dark Lord had returned how angry and moody you were? For the first time in your life people didn't bow down to the almighty Harry Potter, for the first time you actually had to prove something like the rest of us, suddenly people didn't believe you simply because it was _you_!"

"That was different!"

"How?" Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "How was that different from the time when you were upset that you weren't made a Prefect, Potter? And don't try to tell me that you weren't because it was so obvious, I could see it, I always watched you-"

Malfoy fell silent suddenly, and the breathing between them was heavy. Soon, Malfoy slowly let Harry go.

"I never wanted any pity," Harry said quietly.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You did a terrible, terrible job at getting the message across, Potter. You wore a Woe Is Me, Tragic Orphan Hero, Ect, Ect sign on your forehead. Literally."

"People were always worried about me, it was so _annoying_, you have no idea – "

Malfoy stared at him as though he was completely insane. "Of course they bloody were! You were a reckless, impulsive Gryffindor with a hero complex. There's a difference between pity and concern, you know."

Harry had never thought of it like that. Pity had always been something people had forced on him, like a heavy wet blanket full of memories and guilt and it made him so tired. Maybe the pity had been concern all along, a warm reassurance that he was worth something to them, something they didn't want to lose?

Malfoy's drawl interrupted his train of thoughts. "Quit brooding, Potter. You've done enough of that for a lifetime."

Harry privately agreed, but he said nothing. Malfoy's hair was tousled and his cheeks rather pink, but Harry wasn't going to point that out. He wasn't quite _that_ reckless. Also, Malfoy looked a more than a little amusing like that.

Malfoy stretched like a cat, and then announced: "I require coffee. Care for some, Potter?"

"We had coffee forty five minutes ago, Malfoy," Harry felt the need to remind him.

Malfoy's eyes widened. "Has it been that long? No wonder we got all grumpy. Come with me to the kitchen."

Harry couldn't help smiling helplessly as he trailed after Malfoy into the kitchen.

The Auror's Department was always noisy, crowded and messy and this morning was no exception. Harry flung himself into the chair in his cubicle, accidentally spilling coffee all over his newly finished reports. Groaning, he leant over his desk, resting his head in his arms. Mondays were evil, he decided. Evil, ruthless and inescapable. He should really use his stupid influence to convince someone in charge that all Mondays should be taken away from the magical calendar at once.

"Bad day?"

Harry looked up, meeting the compassionate gaze of Dean Thomas.

"'Fraid so," Harry said, smiling ruefully. "What about you?"

Dean smiled, putting down a tray of herbs on Harry's desk and waved his wand casually to remove the coffee stains from Harry's reports. "No incidents so far," he acknowledged, before grinning. "But it's only eight thirty."

Harry grinned back. He'd always liked Dean – well, perhaps not so much in sixth year when he'd spent most of his time sticking his tongue down Ginny's throat, but other than that Harry had always enjoyed his company.

"I rarely see you up here," Harry said, peering at the herbs on the tray. "How's the Department for Potions making doing?"

"Very well," Dean said lightly. "Not much paperwork," he said cheekily, nodding at Harry's reports.

Harry jokingly tossed an old post-it note at him. "Lucky you."

"Indeed. I have to run, but would you like to have lunch later?"

Harry looked into Dean's friendly, dark eyes. He smiled. "Absolutely."

Dean waved. "Great. See you later, Harry."

After spending a few weeks in Malfoy's company, Harry had learned two things. One, Malfoy was an utterly bizarre person with a severe coffee addiction. Two, Harry was obviously equally bizarre, since he found himself enjoying the company of the lunatic. He found himself laughing often at the things Malfoy said. Most of them were horrible and Harry seriously doubted that Malfoy had any shame at all, but he couldn't help it but laugh simply because it was Malfoy and Malfoy could get away with being awful.

One day Malfoy had asked him: "How come you spend all your time helping me with this, Potter? Surely there are plenty of distressed damsels that require your attention? Or some poor kitten stuck in a tree or something?"

"Nah," Harry had said, popping a grape into his mouth that he'd snatched from Malfoy's plate.

"Someone should clearly have a talk with Shacklebolt," Malfoy said as he smacked Harry. "This slacking off must cease. How can any of us rest at night, knowing that the Aurors are not doing their jobs? Who shall protect us all from the malevolence and sin of dark wizards?"

"Malfoy," Harry said, "You're a death eater."

"I have _retired_! I'm old!"

"Malfoy," Harry told him, "You're twenty two."

"My career was short but intense. Evil was conducted and blood was shed."

"Malfoy," Harry said helplessly, "All you did was mending a cabinet. So you could have some moral support when you _not_ killed Dumbledore."

Malfoy feigned a crestfallen look. "I truly was a terrible death eater," he admitted. "I hope you can forgive me for being a hopeless archenemy, Potter. I promise you I will spend what remains of my life conducting evil."

Harry pretended to ponder this. "I don't reckon you quite qualify as 'archenemy', Malfoy. I believe that one is reserved for Voldemort."

"Damn those evil overlords," Malfoy sulked. "They always steal my thunder. Selfish, really. Everybody wants a piece of Harry Potter, and he had to go and mark you as his when you were a baby."

Harry smacked Malfoy.

Malfoy gave him a lofty smirk. "Potter, that was rude. Dark wizards like me give Aurors like you jobs, after all."

Harry laughed.

Then, he had remembered Ginny and flooed to their house.

Harry could tell from just looking for a moment at Malfoy's face when he opened the door the next morning that something was terribly wrong. Malfoy had a fresh cut over his too sharp cheekbone, and his mouth was a thin line and he had dark circles under his eyes. It looked like he hadn't slept at all.

"What happened?" Harry demanded.

Malfoy looked so tired. He just stepped aside to let Harry in.

Harry hurried past him, through the kitchen and into Malfoy's lab. Or rather, the remains of what used to be Malfoy's lab.

All the flasks that Malfoy always kept neatly arranged on the shelves all around the room were smashed against the stone floor, broken glass and potions of odd colours and odours mingling in a terrible mess.

The tools had been broken and thrown in a pile along with plenty of old and fragile looking books where pages had been torn out and ripped to pieces.

But that was not all. On the window, written in what looked liked black ink was only one word.

_Innocent. _

Harry turned around, looking at Malfoy who wouldn't look him in the eye.

Harry could feel himself grow paler by the minute. "What happened, Malfoy?"

And Malfoy told him. He told him how he'd not heard anything, he suspected a Muffliato charm, and that he'd been sleeping in his bedroom. He had woken up when there had been a flask thrown into the wall over his bed and he had had his cheek sliced open from the shattered glass, but by the time he'd found his wand and gotten out of bed the intruder had Apperated.

"I never even got a glimpse of the bastard," Malfoy grit out, eyes dark and angry.

Harry growled: "Why the _hell_ haven't you flooed? Or owled!"

Malfoy leant against the wall, his head resting in the crook of his arm. His blonde hair was falling into his face, and Harry couldn't see if his eyes were open. Harry had never seen him like that and he wanted to do something, maybe put his arm around him or touch his hair, but he remained where he was, waiting for Malfoy's reply. When it came, it was muffled.

"I tried. I tried the floo, but no one answered and I didn't want to wait too long anyway because I didn't want to wake up the Ginger Wrath."

Harry told him, "You could have owled me."

"Too risky Potter, and you know it. What if the letter had gotten into the wrong hands?" Malfoy squared his shoulders and took a deep breath.

Harry wanted to say something, perhaps something along the lines of 'I'm sorry', but he couldn't. He felt so stupid, so very _stupid_. Fine Auror he was. He was supposed to help Malfoy find the person who was doing all this, he was supposed to protect Malfoy from getting hurt, and he hadn't even _been_ there when it had happened. He'd been home in his house that still seemed to smell of wet wool with Ginny whom he didn't even wanted to speak to anymore because it all felt so wrong.

"We'll make this right," Harry said at last. "I'll make this right."

It sounded useless. He sounded useless.

And Malfoy didn't look at all happier.

Then, Malfoy strode forwards and grabbed a hold of Harry's robes.

"Do you know what I need right now, Potter?" Malfoy asked, dragging Harry back towards the front door.

"Er," said Harry, "To clean up your lab? See to that wound? Sleep?"

"I need to succumb to decadency and intoxication," Malfoy declared. "I need _drinks_."

Harry rather felt that he did, too.

And drinks they had, indeed. Or at the very least Malfoy did, Harry thought, as he watched him try to build a tower out of recently emptied shot glasses. Hermione was there, too, with Parvati Patil and Pansy Parkinson, who were also Unspeakables. They had joined them after Harry and Malfoy had spent a couple of hours at the bar.

Dean Thomas joined them too, and Harry was glad. He'd enjoyed their lunch the other day, and he could use some male company beside Malfoy, who seemed it consider his life mission to get as smashed as it was humanly possible.

Dean sipped on his beer and cast a look at Malfoy before asking Harry: "How's Malfoy doing?"

Harry had told him a little bit about Malfoy's case, no details, only that he needed protection. Harry scowled. "He would be doing a lot better if I was capable of doing my job," Harry muttered into his beer.

Dean patted his arm sympathetically. "Don't beat yourself up about it," he said. "I know you're doing your best to protect him, and I bet that Malfoy knows it too. Besides, given Malfoy's history I'm not surprised people will go at length to hurt him."

Harry shrugged. "I guess you do make a fair point," he admitted. "Though I'm not so sure Malfoy deserves it, not anymore at least. He's not the same snotty brat he once were."

It was obvious that Dean doubted it; however he was too polite to argue back. Instead they turned their attention back to the others at the table.

Parvati looked rather apprehensive as Malfoy downed shot after shot, but Harry cold see that she almost blushed when Malfoy smiled flirtatiously at her. When Malfoy was done with his tower, he happily spread his arms in a 'Tada!' gesture, before announcing:

"I am a genius. Behold my arteestic skills, simple people! Behold my immortal art and creation!"

As he spoke the word 'immortal' Malfoy accidentally kicked the table and the entire tower collapsed, shattered glass falling onto the floor and the table.

"I think that you have, um, maybe had enough, Malfoy," Hermione said cautiously, glancing at Harry with a Why Do You Spend Time With This Lunatic, Should I Be Worried Because I Am look on her face.

Pansy snorted into her drink.

"Nonsense," Malfoy said loftily, slurring only a little bit. "Potter, order me a drink."

"Why won't you order it yourself?"

Malfoy looked at him darkly, his blonde hair gleaming oddly bright in the dimly lit bar. "Because," he said in a theatrical whisper, "The bartender wouldn't let me order one. He said I was a bit unstable. Can you believe that?"

"I'm shocked to my very core," Harry said dryly.

Then, a smoothly arrogant voice drawled: "Unlike Potter here, I don't mind getting you a drink, Draco."

"Blaise!" Malfoy purred, looking up at the tall, dark handsomeness that was Blaise Zabini. "Fancy seeing you here. Do sit down, I am in desperate need of satisfying company. Potter here won't do at all, and I'm afraid the ladies are a bit too frigid, sadly."

Hermione and Parvati blushed, and Pansy rolled her eyes. "You know, there was a time when I could have killed to be the one who was your _satisfying_ _company_," she said haughtily. "It must have been those fumes from the potions dungeons."

"I know you love me, wench," Malfoy said affectionately and then turned to Blaise, who was smirking rather than smiling, offering a drink to Malfoy who happily accepted it.

Harry suddenly developed a headache.

After about twenty minutes which Harry had spent nursing the same beer, Malfoy rose from his chair with great carefulness to avoid falling over, and announced that he was going to the men's room.

When he'd left their table and Hermione, Pansy and Parvati were once again engaged in their conversation, Zabini shot Harry and Dean a filthy look across the table.

"Potter. _Muggleborn_," he added as he looked at Dean disdainfully. He said 'Muggleborn' with the same condescending tone he would have used the term 'Mudblood'.

"Get bent," Harry advised him grumpily.

Zabini smirked. "Any progress so far, Potter?"

"Mind your own business, Zabini."

Zabini's dark eyes gleamed. Harry didn't like it. "I am." He took another sip from his drink. "So, have any suspects yet? Any great revelations?"

"No," Harry grit out.

"You better solve this sooner rather than later, Potter. We don't want to see Draco getting hurt."

Zabini's intense distaste practically rolled off him in waves.

"Blaise," said Malfoy, who'd emerged from the restrooms, "Dance with me!"

Zabini's scowl was swiftly replaced by a look of relaxed smugness, and he took Malfoy's outstretched hand, allowing him to pull him up from the chair.

"Your wish is my command," he drawled, and Harry watched Malfoy drag Zabini out to the dance floor.

Dean narrowed his eyes, and said so only Harry could hear: "Unpleasant bloke, that Zabini. Never cared for him much."

Harry could see Blaise lean into Malfoy and saying something into his ear. Malfoy threw his head back and laughed and laughed. Zabini's hair looked very dark next to Malfoy's blonde head.

"Extremely unpleasant," Harry agreed vigorously.

"He's happy," Pansy said, her voice close to Harry's ear. "Draco's happy."

Harry turned to look at her. She was watching the two of them dancing, the look on her face both amused and affectionate. She was kind of pretty, Harry decided. She had pink lips and shiny hair, and her eyes were very dark.

"I haven't seen him very happy in a long time," she continued, "Not since Hogwarts."

Harry somewhat doubted that Malfoy was all that happy, what with his trashed lab back home and the cut on his cheek, but right now he did look carefree and happy, a warm glow around him where he danced with Zabini.

"He always wanted to be your friend, you know," she said, almost to herself. "I take it you two get along now?"

Harry thought about it. He thought about watching Malfoy laugh and he thought about Malfoy's horrible, tasteless jokes and he thought about how no one could make him so angry or so happy. He would say they were friends.

"Yeah," he said, smiling a little. "We do."

Pansy nodded. "That's good," she said slowly. "He needs friends."

"He has you," Harry said, "And, um, Zabini."

Pansy raised an eyebrow at him. "Do they look _friendly_, Potter?"

Harry frowned in confusion, and then turned to look at Malfoy and Zabini again.

Zabini had Malfoy pinned to the wall of the dance floor, his hands holding Malfoy's wrists above his head, one leg between Malfoy's, his forehead resting against Malfoy's. Harry saw Zabini whisper something, and then he saw Malfoy smirking before Zabini leant forwards, kissing him.

Harry felt the colour drain from his face.

_Get your hands off him_, he wanted to snarl. For no other reason than the fact that Zabini was a prat, naturally.

Zabini had released Malfoy's hands now, and they were tangled in Zabini's dark hair, pulling him closer.

"Malfoy's gay," Harry yelped, unnecessarily.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Malfoy could never resist a pretty face, no matter who it was," she said. "Honestly Potter, are you blind? Everyone knew what was going on between Draco and Blaise. Even some of your daft Gryffindor friends knew."

Harry couldn't look away. Zabini pressed Malfoy harder into the wall now, the entire length of his body against Malfoy, who didn't seemed to mind at all. The kiss looked lazy and suggestive, like they had done all of it before and knew what was to come and like they wanted the other to know it.

"They've been business partners ever since Malfoy started up his potions lab," Pansy continued, "And lovers long before that. I don't know if I would call them friends, though."

Harry snapped out of his trance, and turned to Pansy. "What do you mean 'business partners'?"

Pansy looked at him oddly. "Have you been living under a rock or something, Potter? Blaise owns twenty five percent of the shares in Draco's company. Draco needed money to start up his company and Blaise needed a business. Didn't Draco tell you that?"

Harry's head spun. Staring at Zabini and Malfoy tangled together, he realised that there were plenty of things Malfoy hadn't told him.

In that moment, Malfoy opened his eyes and looked directly over Zabini's shoulder and into Harry's eyes. They were very grey and gleaming, almost smouldering, in the candle light and Harry could feel a shiver running down his spine.

An unforgivable thought formed in Harry's mind.

_Ginny's eyes had never made him shiver like that. _

Oh god.

Ginny.

Tearing his eyes away from Malfoy, Harry Apperated.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Thank you all for R&R, I very much appreciate it. A special thanks to Whitetyger123 for her help. Also: I'm sorry I haven't updated this sooner! Now, without further ado, I give you chapter three of Standing Next to Me.

Chapter Three: A Magic Beyond

_Every time I see you falling_

_I get down on my knees and pray _

_I'm waiting for those final moments _

_You say the words that I can't say _

Harry opened the door to his house with his stomach in tight knots. It was past two in the morning, and he hadn't phoned Ginny all day. At best she would be asleep now and he'd have to deal with her in the morning but at worst –

"Look who's decided to spend some quality time with his girlfriend. At two am."

Harry sighed, and turned to face Ginny who was standing in her bathrobe by the foot of the stairs. Her lips were pressed into a thin line. Harry numbly thought that all her frowning made her look older than her twenty one years.

"Ginny," he started as he shrugged out of his travelling cloak, "I'm really sorry for not letting you know where I've been, but please could we spare the sarcastic remarks for tomorrow morning? I'm knackered."

Her eyes narrowed. "Where have you been?"

"You know I'm on Malfoy's case. He requires protection. I've been working, Ginny."

She walked up to him, eyes glittering angrily. "Is that so?" she said mockingly. "Then why do you reek of beer? Does poor ickle Malfoy need his big, strong bodyguard to follow him to bars? Have you really signed up for that, Harry?"

Harry sighed, again, and closed his eyes. "There was an attack on him last night. He was... unbalanced today, and I felt that it was best that I accompanied him to the bar he insisted on visiting where he decided to get smashed, probably to forget about the mess that used to be his lab. Was there anything else, or can I go to bed now?"

Without waiting for an answer he strode past her, heading for the stairs. He had reached the middle of it when Ginny asked: "Why, Harry?"

He stopped. "'Why', what?" he demanded, irritated.

"Why do you go through so much trouble for him? He's only Malfoy."

Harry thought about Narcissa and Lucius, about Malfoy's dead eyes at the trial and about Malfoy's strange pride and determination. He thought about his own guilt and about Malfoy's tasteless jokes and about how he almost always smiled around him.

_He's only Malfoy_.

Only, Malfoy was so much more now. Malfoy was his friend.

"He's my friend," Harry muttered.

Ginny laughed quietly. Harry thought it sounded awful.

"Do you look at all your friends like they've hung the moon, Harry?"

Harry stared. "What?"

"You don't know what people say behind your back?" Ginny taunted. "They say you're mooning over him like a bloody poof."

Harry stiffened, and turned to look at her, as though seeing her properly for the first time.

"I think you should leave."

He didn't even realise he'd said it before the finality of the words stretched between them, and Ginny's eyes blazed.

"What?" she asked, dangerously.

"I think you should leave," Harry repeated again, wondering what the hell he was doing. Ron would murder him and Ginny would probably never forgive him, but for some reason it didn't matter then. "This is my house, and I want you out. Take the things you need for the night and go to Hermione and Ron's, or somewhere else. Frankly I don't care, as long as you _get out_."

oOoOoOoOoOoO

The next morning, Harry knocked on Malfoy's door, determined to find out why Malfoy hadn't told him about the fact that Zabini was his business partner. What reason could he have had to hide it? Did he want to protect Zabini from suspicion? Was he ashamed to admit that he didn't have the financial means that was needed to start up his own lab? Whatever it was, Harry was going to find out.

Or at least that's what he thought until Malfoy opened the door.

And gave Harry the iciest glare he had ever received.

"Potter," Malfoy said tightly. "Didn't expect to see you here."

Harry was confused. "I, er, wanted to –"

"Oh, don't even bother Potter. I'll tell you what we're going to do. You're going to go home, and I'm going to make sure that your gold is in Gringott's by noon. Goodbye."

Malfoy was about to close the door in Harry's face, but his old Seeker instincts allowed him to get a foot in between.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, bewildered. "What about your case?"

"I don't need you to take care of me, Potter," Malfoy said with a quiet sort of contained rage. "Now leave. Just leave. Nothing for you to worry about around here anymore, alright?"

And with that, he pushed Harry out of the way and slammed the door shut.

And Harry stared at the closed door, gaping like a fool.

"For heaven's sake Potter, stop gaping like a fool," said Pansy Parkinson a few hours later. "Do you honestly not know why Draco is upset with you?"

"No!" bellowed Harry, earning angry looks from the other Unspeakables.

Pansy crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. "And you Aurors are supposed to be perceptive," she said flatly. "I'm appalled."

Harry scowled. "Just bloody tell me," he muttered.

Pansy tilted her head to the side and looked at Harry as though he was a somewhat slow five year old, causing Harry to feel very much like a somewhat slow five year old.

"Have you thought about how last night ended for Draco at _all_? Don't answer that Potter, it was a rhetorical question. It ended," she continued, "or so it appeared to Draco, with you watching him and Blaise being intimate, then leaving without a word of good bye in a swirl of heterosexual panic."

Harry paled. "Oh my god," he groaned, resisting the urge he had to rest his head in his hands. "I'm such an idiot. Of course that's why he's mad, he thinks I left because he's... and I'm... What a mess this is."

"Indeed it is. Fool."

Harry looked at her, feeling helpless. "He must think I'm the biggest prat on the planet."

"This is certainly news to me," Pansy said dryly.

Harry glowered. "You're not being very supportive."

Pansy looked at him loftily. "Oh, good. I was afraid I was getting soft. All these Gryffindor Unspeakables, you see. They tend to have a bad influence on your character."

"He won't even talk to me," Harry sulked.

Pansy said: "So?"

Harry looked at her dully.

She rolled her eyes. "_Make him_ talk to you. Honestly, you Gryffindors really should learn not to take no for an answer."

With that she was gone in a swirl of files, coffee mugs, and red lipstick.

Harry glanced at his watch. Malfoy would be at home.

He Apperated.

OooOoooOoOooOOOOooO

Malfoy looked thoroughly irritated when he opened the door in Harry's face. Harry could smell the cologne from Malfoy's neck, and he felt the surging feeling of free fall in the pit of his stomach.

_Do you look at all your friends as though they've hung the moon, Harry?_

Harry swallowed. And Malfoy looked even more irritated.

"Do you suffer from amnesia by any chance, Potter?"

Harry blinked. "Not that I'm aware of."

"Then you should recall me asking you to not come back here again. It was after all only three hours ago."

"I think we should talk," Harry tried.

"And I think not," Malfoy said flatly.

"Come on, Malfoy!" Harry snapped. "Just let me in so we can talk. This is ridiculous. I have some things I need to tell you, and if you could stop being a complete prick for ten minutes then maybe we could let this go and get back to your case?"

"You are _off the case._" Malfoy's voice was terribly cold.

Harry pushed him in the chest. "Would you stop saying that?"

Malfoy's eyes glittered, and then he pushed back, causing Harry to stumble backwards. "Don't touch me," he snarled.

Harry threw himself at Malfoy, sending them both tumbling to the floor inside Malfoy's lab, trying to avoid the punches Malfoy threw at him.

"I said, don't touch me, Potter!" Malfoy growled.

"Just hear me - " began Harry before he had the wind knocked out of him by a particular vicious punch in his stomach.

"You are such a twit," Malfoy huffed, pushing Harry off of him.

Harry glared at him from the corner of his eye. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his chest heaving.

Malfoy had dust in his hair, and Harry suppressed the urge he had to reach out and brush it off. He couldn't think about these things now. Malfoy was still in danger, and Harry was determined to protect him.

"Tell you _what_? That you're the biggest prat on earth since Godric Gryffindor himself, that your hair is ridiculous, that even the sound of your voice annoys me more than anything else? I could have told you these things but to be honest I thought you already knew -"

"Why didn't you tell me about you and Zabini?" exploded Harry, feeling the blood pound at his temples from anger.

"I didn't realise my sexual preferences had anything to do with this investigation," Malfoy replied snidely.

"That's not what I was talking about! Why didn't you tell me that you and he are business partners?"

"Because I didn't see how it would matter. He's not involved in the potions making, he's rarely in the lab... He only invested the money in the beginning and now he owns some shares. It's no big deal, Potter."

Harry looked him straight in the eye. "Are you saying these things to protect him?"

"Blaise is not the one who's behind all this," Malfoy snapped.

"No, he's just behind _you_, isn't he?" Harry grit out.

Malfoy punched him in the mouth.

"Who'd have known?" Malfoy said, his voice almost trembling from ice cold fury, "That Harry Potter, who loves them all, Mudbloods and half-breeds, is nothing but a homophobic-"

"I'm not homophobic," snarled Harry with blood running down his chin. "How the hell could I be, when I think I'm a bloody..."

The words died on his tongue, but Harry could see that Malfoy knew what he was going to say. Malfoy's eyes gleamed.

"You're not saying..." Malfoy began, before starting to laugh hysterically. "Oh my god, this is too good to be true! Oh, how I would love to see the look on the Ginger Wrath's face when you tell her that you're a shirt lifter. You have to let me be there when you do. Please Potter, tell me I can be there! Make my life complete."

Harry looked at him darkly. "Are you quite done?"

"No," grinned Malfoy, reaching towards the counter for a napkin.

"If you must know," Harry said grimly, snatching the napkin out of Malfoy's hand and started to clean his face from blood with it, "Ginny already knows. She... She kind of figured it out for me," he said, blushing intensely. This was very little how he had planned this.

Malfoy stared. "Don't tell me that you yelled out some bloke's name when having sex with her. That would just be too cruel, even for my taste."

"No!" Harry exclaimed, fairly sure that his face would never return from scarlet to its normal colour. "It doesn't matter how she figured it out," he said grumpily. "We've broken up."

Malfoy arched an eyebrow. "Really? She dumped you?"

"If you must know," Harry said with a glare, "_I_ finished it."

"My, my, Potter. Look at you go!"

Malfoy suddenly smiled, and Harry felt kind of happy. Miserable, but still kind of happy. The kind of happy only Malfoy could make him feel.

"Am I on the case again?" Harry blurted.

Malfoy regarded him haughtily. "I suppose," he said after a while. "Now that you've proven that you're not some prejudiced twit-"

"I believe that was you," Harry said dryly with an eye roll.

Malfoy pushed him.

oOoOoooOooOooooOOOooOo

Harry could sense that something was wrong when he put the key in the lock to his house a few hours later. He realised, upon spotting Ginny's cloak on one of his hangers, that it really was. He discovered her in the living room, shoving books from the bookshelf into a box on the floor.

"I didn't know you'd be here," Harry said awkwardly to her back.

She didn't turn around.

"Is that a problem?" she asked coldly. "I had to collect my things, you see."

"Of course," Harry mumbled, feeling stupid. He really hadn't handled the whole breakup thing very well. "Where, um, where are you staying? At Ron and Hermione's?"

"No," she said shortly and Harry didn't dare ask again.

At last she turned around, and without looking at Harry she Levitated the box and strode past him.

Harry walked after her to the hallway. He felt a profound pang of guilt, and he wanted to say something to her. She was his friend, after all, and he would always care for her.

"Hey, Ginny..."

She snatched her cloak from the hanger. "Save it, Harry."

Harry shut his mouth, watching her step out on the doorstep. She turned around, sneering.

"Oh, and Harry?" she said nastily, "Good luck with _Malfoy_."

Harry slammed the door shut in her face.

The guilt vanished rather quickly after that.

oOoOoooooOOooOOoooooOoooOO

Hermione Granger had loved Harry Potter for a very long time. Not romantically, mind you, but she loved him like her brother, like the faithful, trusting friend he had always been to her. She had spent years worrying about him. She had worried when he was eleven, and his thirst for adventure at first had become apparent. She had worried when he was twelve and he was going crazy from the rumours about him being the heir of Slytherin. She had worried all the rest of the years when people, mostly Voldemort however not exclusively, had been out to murder him.

Now, she worried about him for other another reason. The reason spelled Draco Malfoy.

She looked over the brim of her coffee mug in the Unspeakables office at the Ministry. Harry was there, with Malfoy. Apparently they were visiting Pansy, because they were hovering over her desk. Or, at least Malfoy was. Harry was standing very close to Malfoy. And he was not looking at Pansy with her dark, shiny hair and her pink lips. He was looking at Malfoy's profile, with a very strange and unusual look on his face. He looked happy, and he laughed at soon as Malfoy opened his mouth.

Malfoy seemed completely oblivious to Harry's staring.

"Harry?" Hermione said, "Could you come over here for a second?"

Harry seemed to snap out of his trance-like state and his bright eyes met hers. His smile was broad and carefree, and even though Hermione was happy to see him this cheerful she couldn't help the nagging suspicion that something was very off.

"Sure," Harry replied brightly and with a last glance at Malfoy who was still occupied with Pansy, he went over to Hermione's desk.

"I take it that you and Malfoy made up?" she asked, trying to not sound like she was suspicious. She felt that she failed miserably, not that Harry seemed to notice.

Harry grinned. "Yeah," he said, casting yet another affectionate glace in Malfoy's direction. "We did. It was just a stupid misunderstanding, that's all."

"Brilliant," she muttered, staring into her coffee mug. This was almost getting ridiculous. "I was wondering Harry, would you like to have dinner with me and Ron tonight? You still haven't told us what happened between you and Ginny, and we've barely seen you lately."

Then, the unmistakable drawl of Malfoy said: "Are you trying to steal my bodyguard away from me, Granger?"

Hermione looked up from her cup, and of course, there he was again. Standing next to Harry, shoulder to shoulder, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

Harry jokingly pushed him, and _oh dear God_, was he blushing when Malfoy shoved him back?

"Er," she said awkwardly.

"I really wish I could, Hermione," said Harry earnestly, "But I already made plans with Malfoy. This weekend?"

"Fine," she agreed, watching helplessly how Harry already had started trailing after Malfoy who was heading for the door. "See you, Harry."

He turned around, teeth white in a smile and green eyes glittering. Like a child's face, Hermione thought, astonished. "See you, Hermione."

When Malfoy and Harry had left Hermione stared at Pansy who was sitting by her desk still, smirking at the door.

"My, my, my," Pansy remarked.

"It's really obvious, isn't it?" Hermione said unhappily.

Pansy raised one eyebrow, her poise practically shouting: _Are you kidding me?_

Hermione resisted the urge to put her head in her hands.

It really was obvious. Painfully so.

Harry Potter was mad for Draco Malfoy.

oOoOoOoooooOOooOooOoooOoooO

"Harry Potter, you are without a doubt the biggest fool I have ever met. How could you not have _known_?"

Harry winced. They were at a restaurant, and he really would prefer if they weren't having this discussion openly. If at all. "I didn't really give it any thought."

Malfoy arched an eyebrow. "Are you saying," he drawled, "That you didn't think about sex at school? Ever? Sweet Salazar Potter, I knew you were dry but I thought you at least had some hormones!"

"I was battling evil," Harry muttered. He sort of wanted to die a bit.

"You were battling evil," Malfoy deadpanned. "You saved the world over and over, girls were throwing themselves at you, and your supreme lack of interest never once indicated that maybe girls weren't what you were looking for?"

"I was interested in them! And they weren't throwing themselves at me."

"Do you honestly believe that trying to slip you a love potion, crowding your Quidditch practises and following you through the corridors like puppies is normal behaviour?"

"Um," Harry said.

"And honestly Potter, Chang? She had the most boyish body of all the girls in school. That's why she was a good Seeker."

"Cedric liked her!" Harry protested.

"Diggory was known to snog Slytherin boys behind the shed at the pitch used for polishing brooms. No pun intended," he added as an afterthought.

"Slytherin boys?" Harry repeated, feeling an irrational twinge of jealousy.

Malfoy's teeth gleamed in the candlelight. "Indeed. Not me, sadly. Apparently I was 'too young'. Silly Hufflepuffs."

Harry cleared his throat. "So... You knew? Even at that age? That you, you know, sort of maybe liked blokes?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I, unlike you, weren't completely oblivious to my sexual desires during all my school years, Potter."

Harry felt his heart speed up a bit at the way 'sexual desires" rolled off Malfoy's tongue.

"Do you want to leave?" Harry mumbled. "It's getting quite late."

"I suppose," Malfoy agreed.

Harry waved at the waitress for the bill, and when she arrived with it Malfoy picked it up.

"Malfoy, let me," Harry said. He knew the dinner had been expensive, and Malfoy hadn't sold any potions to the hospital since his lab had been trashed.

Malfoy looked up. His grey eyes had instantly hardened, and Harry knew he should have known better than protesting.

"I'll get this one," Malfoy told him.

Harry just nodded.

When Malfoy had paid and they had left the restaurant, Malfoy seemed like his happy self again.

"I still find this whole thing very intriguing," Malfoy said as they strolled down the dark London street. "I must set you up on a date."

Harry froze. The last thing he wanted was to be set up on a date with some random bloke by Malfoy, who'd be asking about it afterwards, laughing at Harry's mistakes and making Harry more embarrassed than ever.

Also, Harry really wasn't interested in any bloke. Just one, one he couldn't have.

"I don't think so," Harry said stiffly. "Blind dates aren't really my thing."

Malfoy snickered: "Potter, up until you were seventeen _dating_ wasn't your thing. And then you dated your best friend's little sister. Do you realise how utterly depressing that is? It actually makes _me_ a little bit sad. Either way, it's obvious you need help."

"I really don't feel comfortable being your little charity project," Harry muttered.

"And I don't really enjoy being yours so we're even," Malfoy said cheerfully. "Now. We have quite a few guys from school you might be interested in – Zacharias Smith of course, good looking but also kind of a prat. Malcolm Baddock is of course another option, though I suppose he's a bit too young. I reckon he's in his seventh year now-"

"Malfoy," Harry grit out. "This is awful."

"I know, I can't believe I just said 'reckon'. Who am I, a Weasley? Anyway, Colin Creevy would just be too easy," Malfoy continued, ignoring Harry. "He's been in love with you since he was eleven, the poor sod. Should be called Colin Creepy, what with all his stalking and photographing and –"

"Shut up!" Harry growled, hastily turning towards Malfoy, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushed him against the alley wall. "I'm not interested in a blind date with Smith, or some barely-legal Slytherin kid, so just let it go!"

Malfoy's eyes were hard, his sneer terribly a lot like how it had been at school. "Fine, Potter! Remind me to never try to help you with your pathetic little crisis ever again! If I'd known that a little help would have gotten you so riled up –"

"I don't need help," Harry snarled, "I know exactly who I want and I'm not interested in anyone else."

And just like that, Harry leant in and pressed his lips to Malfoy's.

Malfoy instantly pushed him away, staring at Harry in shock and anger.

And Harry could feel the blood buzzing in his ears.

"Don't you ever do that again, Potter," Malfoy said hoarsely.

Harry punched the wall. "Why?" he growled. "You and Zabini, why can't..."

"You're not Blaise," Malfoy said quietly, staring straight ahead.

Harry's chest ached, his head spun, his knuckles bled and his lips tingled. "I see," he whispered.

With that, he Apperated home.


End file.
